


Muggle Dentistry

by Calebski



Series: The Misfits [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bit of something approaching fun, Established Relationship, F/M, Werewolf Mates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-17
Updated: 2019-09-17
Packaged: 2020-10-20 16:56:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20678774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calebski/pseuds/Calebski





	Muggle Dentistry

Hermione pressed her shoulders against the too white, sterile wall and tried to look detached and calm. It was difficult. Fenrir was scowling and as intimidating a presence as ever, despite him being prone in a well-worn dentists chair. 

Now that they were in the tiny room, the only noise coming from the man cloaked in white cheerfully humming, she was no longer so sure this had been such a good idea.

Hermione had intended it to be a bit of a joke, something they would laugh about later, a small reminder to Fenrir that she was not to be dismissed and that she still had some bite about her, even if he was her Alpha. 

When she had returned home the week before to find muddy boot prints trialling all through their small, neatly kept house, Hermione had been furious, even more so when Fenrir had failed to react to her nagging him about it. 

‘I don’t know what you are so worked up about,’ he had said, stepping forward to tower over her. He always did that when she got mad, backed her up against the nearest surface and put his arms out as if he could physically contain her anger. 

Sometimes Hermione hated that the magic of their mate bond soothed her ruffled feathers. She was a person who enjoyed being nicely irritated to her heart’s content, and when Fenrir was near, those emotions dulled. Their bond made her calmer, especially if they were touching, which, if Fenrir had anything to do with it, they usually were.

Moreso she hated that she couldn’t blame it all on the mark in her neck. They were bonded certainly, but that wasn’t all it was. Fenrir was her home. He could be rough, unrelenting and downright rude but he was also safe, cherishing and unexpectedly affectionate. 

But this time she was pissed. So, when they had been talking about her parents a few nights later, and Fenrir was struggling to understand the Muggle concept of dentistry, an idea had formed in Hermione’s mind. 

‘It’s hard to explain,’ she had said, reaching up to place a chaste kiss on his shoulder blade, hoping to distract him from the air of omission from her tone. ‘I could always show you?’

Fenrir had taken her question like he took everything else, as a bit of a challenge. Hermione had rung up a local surgery when he had next gone away on a hunt, and now here they were, in a Muggle dental practice, with an enthusiastic dentist positively brimming with excitement over Fenrir’s abnormal canines.

Ten minutes later, the man bustled out of the room grinning to himself and muttering about x-rays and immediately Hermione dropped her gaze to the white tiled floor as Fenrir’s growl reverberated off the off white tiles.

He moved towards her leisurely like the baddies always did in films. He was confident that he did not need to rush to get his prey.

“I don’t know what you’re so worked up about,” Hermione muttered in a deliberate repetition of his earlier words as his booted feet came into view.

“Point made, little mate,” he murmured into her ear, “only now you have to play fair.”

Hermione’s head snapped up to see Fenrir grinning at her wickedly. 

“Tomorrow I am going to show you what my father did for a living.”

Hermione blinked. “But your dad was a sheep farmer. I get that entirely. There is no need for me to spend…”

Fenrir cut her off. “Tomorrow, mate.”

* * *

Hermione ripped her fluffy white jumper out of the second bramble bush she had got caught up in and promptly collapsed onto her back, panting heavily.

When she heard the swish of Fenrir’s robes approaching she didn’t have enough energy left in her limbs to move, and so with little effort, and alarming speed, he was leaning over her, pinning her to the ground. 

“That wasn’t much fun little sheep,” he said, smirking at her. “I expected you to get into the neighbouring field at least.”

Fenrir had dragged them out into the middle of nowhere at just past dawn and deposited the fluffy jumper over her ‘for warmth’ before he started telling her about his father’s job - things had got a little too interactive for Hermione’s taste when he had told her to run. 

“Sorry,” Hermione huffed out, feeling anything but, “I wasn’t expecting  _ role play _ today.”

Fenrir waggled his eyebrows at her, “Is this what you think this is? Some kink I might have about devouring you?” Hermione gave him a stern look, and he dared to laugh. 

“Nothing of the sort, this was about teaching you a lesson. I had that Muggle’s hands in my mouth for the best part of an hour.”

“I thought you liked having your teeth played with,” Hermione responded coyly, reaching up to rub the pad of her thumb against his right fang, Fenrir ground against her warningly.

“Play nice, little mate,” he admonished, “and say you’re sorry.”

“But what if I’m not?” she asked primly, stretching herself under him in an effort to distract him. 

Fenrir’s smile broadened across his face as his hand moved to Hermione’s neck and ripped the jumper away from her skin. 

“You will be.”


End file.
